I Believe In Father Christmas
by johnsarmylady
Summary: John is asked to play Santa at a local Children's home Christmas Party. Sherlock can't understand why he'd rather get ready for that than help with his latest experiment. A short Christmas story, told in 221B style, maybe a little sad, maybe a little funny, I really don't know yet - all I know is, however many chapters there are, they will all be Christmas song titles :D Rated K
1. Little Saint Nick

**This was inspired by things that were said at the weekend, and I can only add that I don't know how many of these little 221B bites I'll write, but I hope the story makes sense at the end.  
Thank you for reading.  
Disclaimer - as ever, I don't own the boys...**

"You are being childish!" Sherlock snapped at his flatmate while warily eyeing the mutinous look on John's face.

"Sherlock, it's not childish to agree to be Santa Clause at the local children's home Christmas party."

"But I wanted you to help with my latest experiment on human tissue." He saw John's eyes widen and added hastily "Dead tissue John, not yours."

"Ask Molly." John picked up the form he was filling in and cast an eye over it for missing details. "She's always willing to help, anything to get close to you."

"That's not what I want..."

"We don't always get what we want" John patiently laid aside his papers and looked earnestly at his friend. "Those kids would like a home, a family that can provide for them, but very few will leave before their eighteenth birthday."

Warming to his theme, he leaned forward, blue eyes aglow.

"At least, for this short time, they can have their dream, that someone loves them enough to give them a gift."

"But it's a crime to lie to children" Sherlock said, utterly confused. "Surely that can't be good?"

"Not lying Sherlock, feeding their imaginations and giving them something to believe in, something good to look forward to." John paused and smiled. "You see, that's the whole point about Father Christmas Sherlock. I believe."


	2. Do They Know It's Christmas?

His earlier conversation with John left Sherlock with much to think about. As children he and Mycroft had been discouraged from listening to what was scathingly referred to as his mother's 'flights of fancy', and although Christmas was celebrated with gifts and good food, Father Christmas played no part in their lives.

Part of him wanted to sneer and make disparaging remarks about his friend's childlike love of the season, but in that moment, when he saw the way John's eyes shone as he spoke about giving hope to the children in the home, he wondered if there was more to Christmas than he had been led to believe.

In search of enlightenment, he sought out Mrs Hudson.

"Christmas?" she said absently, as she dusted flour from her hands and sat opposite him at her kitchen table. "What do you need to know?"

"I need to understand Mrs Hudson. John was so disappointed when I questioned his decision to dress up in a stupid red costume and lie about who he is to children."

"Sherlock," Mrs Hudson reached across and patted his hand. "I doubt you and your brother have ever experienced the real wonder of Christmas. Nothing beats seeing a child's face as the magic comes to life."

"No, we never saw anything magical."

"You missed so much, you boys."


	3. All I Want For Christmas Is You

Molly stood as close to Sherlock as she dared, revelling in the fact that at last he had asked her to help him with an experiment. The stupid grin on her face refused to go away as she passed him fresh slides, and held tissues samples for him.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock, still peeved by John's perceived defection, snapped.

"N….nothing, just… well its Christmas." _'In more ways than one'_ Molly thought, but kept that to herself. "I can't wait. Are you having a party like last year?"

"That rather depends on whether or not John manages to extricate himself from his ridiculous red costume."

"Oh that's right! He's playing Santa for all those poor kids, that's so good of him."

"Is it? I wanted him here helping me."

"Of course it is, there's nothing quite like seeing the look of children's faces when they meet Santa. I remember the first time I ever…."

"Quite." Sherlock's harsh tone effectively silenced Molly's effusive remembrances.

She covered her hurt as Sherlock held his hand out for the next slide.

Out of the blue he asked "Are you telling me that you, a scientist, believe in this fairy tale?"

"Well… I just love the magic of it Sherlock." Molly ignored his rolling eyes, adding silently _'Santa can leave you on the end of my bed!'_


	4. Fairytale Of New York

Walking through the open-plan offices of New Scotland Yard Sherlock barely noticed the figure sitting alone at a desk, and it was only when he realised that the man shouldn't actually have been there that he stopped and focussed.

As he opened his mouth to speak Anderson looked up, and pressed his finger to his lips…. And then he winked.

Sherlock blinked.

Anderson grinned and crooked his finger, beckoning the consulting detective closer.

Puzzled and suspicious Sherlock moved quietly forward, his eyes flicking around the desk trying to see what the forensics officer could possibly have been doing. He realised it was Sally Donovan's desk, although he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Everyone's downstairs at a presentation." Anderson said as he arranged the desk so that the envelope he had placed there was central, in plain sight. "So I thought I'd nip up and do this without being disturbed."

Despite his words Anderson didn't seem bothered by being interrupted.

Sherlock looked at the envelope; it read 'To Sally Donovan from Father Christmas'. The younger man frowned.

Seeing his expression Anderson explained "Sally really wants to see Les Miserables, so for her Christmas present I'm taking her to see it."

"But why the secrecy, and why so early?"

"My wife's away until Christmas Eve, so I'm taking Sally to see it…. on Broadway!"


	5. Driving Home For Christmas

"Make yourself at home Sherlock." Greg was unsurprised to find that the young man had taken up residence at his desk, and was currently breaking into his computer with one hand while holding his phone to his ear with the other.

"Who are you ringing?"

"John. He's not answering."

"I thought you preferred to text?"

Sherlock glared and slammed his phone onto the desk, not wishing to admit he couldn't text and hack the computer at the same time.

Realising he wasn't going to get an answer, Greg changed the subject.

"Going anywhere this Christmas?"

"Where would I go? Unless you get a nice juicy multiple murder for me to investigate it looks like I'll be staying home, while John plays Santa Claus at a children's home."

"God that's right! He agreed to dress up for their party." Greg grinned. "That I've got to see!"

"Maybe you'd like to go in his place? He could help me instead."

"Sorry mate, I'm driving the kids down to see me mum, she's living on the south coast now and has invited us to celebrate Christmas with her." the grin faded a bit. "Haven't you got family to visit?"

"Only Mycroft, and he doesn't do Christmas, only Christmas cake."

"Bloody hell Sherlock… he's your brother… it's Christmas…."

"Christmas?" Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Bah!"


	6. Christmas Wrapping

**This chapter has been written in Text form  
John is in Italics - Sherlock in Bold  
**

**xXx**

'_I'm heading home. Do you want me to pick up take-away?'_

'**I'm not home John. Where have you been? I tried to call you.'**

'_Making a delivery to the group of homeless kids under the embankment arches. What did you want?'_

'**To discuss those skin sample experiments. I had to ask Molly instead.'**

'_You will have made her year! Are you done now? Shall I get food?'_

'**What sort of delivery?'**

'_What? Oh, Mrs H knitted a load of scarves and gloves and hats. Kallie met me there and we handed them out to those who needed them.'_

'**Ha!'**

'_And what's that supposed to mean Sherlock?'_

'**Don't you think this is going to your head just a tiny bit?'**

'_?'_

'**You just can't resist being Santa Clause?'**

'_Now hang on Sherlock, all I did was take those kids something to keep them warm.'_

'_And anyway, you're a fine one to talk, Santa Holmes!'_

'**What? Don't you dare call me ridiculous names like that. It's unforgivable. I've done nothing to deserve it.'**

'_No? I saw you slip a tenner to that kid the other night, wrapped around the cup of tea you bought him.'_

'**It was for information.'**

'_Don't lie. Admit it, you simply do all year round what Santa Clause does once a year. Softie.'_

'**I'm not soft.'**

_No, you're brilliant!'_


	7. Lonely This Christmas

**Apologies, this may be a bit angsty...**

Instead of heading home, Sherlock walked from Scotland Yard to his brother's office in Whitehall. He wasn't sure quite what drove him there; maybe it was the excess of jollity he had encountered since John's shock announcement regarding Santa, whatever it was he was determined to see Mycroft.

That worthy gentleman was surprised to have been sought out, and for such a fanciful reason too, but he listened to his brother's question and gave it considerable thought before replying.

"Mummy was fond of all the things that made Christmas magical, and father tolerated it while it was simply a matter of attending parties." He took a sip of his tea. "I was always his shadow, so she never told me about Father Christmas, but when you came along, all wide eyes and wondering smile she was in her element."

Sherlock sat, trying to equate the butterfly his brother was describing with the downtrodden woman he remembered.

"Oh, you were little more than four years old when he caught her telling you tales of the jolly old man that left gifts for children, once he had finished beating it out of her you were guaranteed never to believe."

Sherlock didn't want to hear any more, and excusing himself, returned home.

Alone now in his office, Mycroft mourned for that lost little boy.


	8. It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

John had just finished paying for the take-away when Sherlock arrived home. In silence he swept through the door, leaving the blond doctor to follow up the stairs in his wake.

"Did you get your experiment completed?" John asked as he moved into the kitchen and started dividing the food between two trays.

Sherlock hummed distractedly while he flicked through his post, then flung it onto his desk and slumped into his chair.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Looking mildly puzzled John handed his flatmate a tray, then sat down with his own and waited expectantly.

Sad grey eyes turned his way. "What was Christmas like when you were a child?"

John wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. He thought briefly, then smiled.

"We used to buy a real tree, and decorate it the first weekend in December." He said, his eyes distant, remembering. "God, the pine needles got everywhere; in our clothes, trampled all around the house, but the smell of a real tree, and mum's cooking….."

"Fun then?"

"It was wonderful. Me and Harry…" he glanced across, waiting for the grammar correction that never came. "…we would be awake at an ungodly hour, and opening the little gifts in our stockings."

"What about your parents?"

"They encouraged us, made everything magical and bright."


	9. Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

**Thank you to everyone who has followed this so far - I hopefully have a few more chapter to take us up to Christmas!**

Sherlock was already out of the flat by the time John woke next morning, so he sat down to a leisurely breakfast and made his plans for the day. There was time to do a little Christmas shopping before his costume fitting, and all being well he would have his afternoon free to drag the Christmas tree and decorations down from the attic.

xXx

Several hours later as John struggled through the front door he was greeted by baking smells coming from 221A, and he walked upstairs revelling in the memories awakened by the scent of mince pies and cinnamon biscuits, but then… there was something else…

Tuneful humming came from the living room, and when John pushed his way into the unlit flat he saw, reflected in the windows, a multitude of coloured lights.

"Sherlock, what the…."

"John." Sherlock jumped slightly and turned to look at him, a guilty expression on his face. "I wasn't expecting you back just yet."

"Obviously." John put his bags down on the couch.

"I got a real tree, like you used to have, and I wanted to get it decorated before…" He stopped as he saw a tear roll down John's cheek.

"Have I done something wrong? Did you want to decorate it?"

"No, you idiot," the older man stared at the tree. "It's beautiful!"


	10. Step Into Christmas

When Lestrade texted the following morning Sherlock and John wasted no time in jumping a cab to Scotland Yard; they were instructed to keep a low profile, and both wondered why they should be summoned with such secrecy.

John's lips quirked as they walked through the seemingly deserted outer office, for once he believed he had out-observed his friend, spotting several members of Greg's team hiding behind room dividers.

His smile however became strained as they walked into the Detective Inspector's office to find it decked out like Santa's grotto, with two costumes hanging by the window – one was obviously a Santa suit, the other a shapeless costume in varying green hues.

As they looked around they were joined by the team, led by Sally Donovan.

"Thought you might like some practice, John." she laughed, "So we got you a costume and one for your 'little helper'"

"Ah, that would explain the mess of green material." Sherlock's face was expressionless. "Not my colour I'm afraid, Sally."

"Aww, would you prefer brown and red? I'm sure we could…."

"Did Lestrade send for us just to do this?" John asked, disbelieving.

Sally waggled a mobile phone between slim fingers.

"He left it on his desk, irresistible."

Sherlock smile, a cold smile.

"I wonder how irresistible you will find being back on the beat?"


	11. 2000 Miles

On the journey back to Baker Street John grumbled about the waste of time, muttering about having better things to do, and limited time in which to do it.

Sherlock watched him out of the corner of his eye, noting that it wasn't the prank that had made him angry, just the amount of time it had taken out of their day.

He thought about this as he led the way up to the flat, then instead of flinging himself onto the couch and disappearing into his mind palace he sat in his chair.

"What do you need?"

"Eh? Need? Sorry Sherlock, I'm not with you."

"Whatever it is you would rather have been doing, what can I do to help?"

John's mouth opened and closed several times, goldfish-like, and he stared at his flatmate.

Sherlock did his best not to be offended by the look of shock on his friend's face, and once again made his offer of help.

He was rewarded with a bright smile as John dashed upstairs, returning with a large box and several rolls of wrapping paper.

"Come on then Santa's little helper, we need to get these wrapped." John grinned as he tipped out an assortment of sweets, boxes of tea bags, decent coffee and biscuits. "These are going out to Afghanistan, to the boys!"


	12. Do You Hear What I Hear?

With less than a week until Christmas, and two days until the children's party, things seem to have fallen into place in 221B.

All their presents were purchased and wrapped, sitting under the tastefully decorated tree. The fire was blazing merrily, its heat encouraging the scent from the tree to fill the living room.

Sherlock stood in the window, playing Vivaldi's Winter melody from the Four Seasons, and the gentle music was almost lulling John to sleep, sat as he was in his chair by the fire at the end of a busy day.

As the piece came to an end something caught Sherlock's attention.

"John, there's a crowd walking down the street, knocking on doors and singing."

"Carol singers from St Mary's." John's eyes stayed closed. "They do this every year."

"And they come here?"

"You've probably deleted it."

It wasn't long before there was a knock at the door, and John slipped out of his chair and ran down to join Mrs Hudson.

At the end of the carol, John and Mrs Hudson each slipped a fiver into the collecting tin. Sherlock reached forward, a twenty pound note in hand.

"Do you do requests?"

At the choirmasters nod of agreement Sherlock lifted his violin up to his chin and played the opening bars of 'Oh Little Town Of Bethlehem.'


	13. When A Child Is Born

John sat and stared into the fire, a small frown dinting his brow. Opposite him Sherlock had retreated into his Mind Palace, storing away all that he had learned recently.

Into the companionable silence John cleared his throat and spoke.

"You're very good at reading people Sherlock, how soon do you think those character traits develop?"

Slipping back into the 'real world', the younger man opened his eyes, giving the question consideration.

"I would think from the day a child is born, why?"

"Oh I dunno, I was thinking about the kids in the home I suppose. The manager told me that currently the fifteen children in care range between four and twelve years, and I just wondered…."

"At the age of four I knew I wanted to be a scientist, admittedly I hadn't decided what sort of scientist but it was enough to be getting on with."

"Hmmm, I thought so." Flicking a glance at Sherlock, he added "You know, Sally may have been onto something."

"How so?"

"Hamleys are providing loads of toys and gadgets, but apparently the children will expect Santa to choose their gift…. I thought maybe…."

"I could play 'elf' and deduce what each child would prefer?"

"You wouldn't have to dress up…." John looked hopeful.

"An interesting experiment…" Sherlock smiled suddenly. "Let the challenge begin!"


	14. Here Comes Santa Clause

Hidden from view behind curtains on a raised stage area, Sherlock stood watching the children, listening to their chatter as they played Christmas games.

Two female staff members were dressed as elves, and much to Sherlock's relief they were not only preventing the children from peeking behind the curtains, but would be assisting Santa by handing him the presents, so all he would have to do is tell them which one for which child.

John was making the most of his time before his 'performance' started by drinking tea and ogling said elves, appreciating as only he could the effect of shimmering shorts and tights on the shapely figures.

A soft cough drew his eyes away from the scene out in the main hall, and he looked up, a slight blush tinging his cheeks.

"Yes, well…. Not often you see a sight like that." He whispered to his flatmate.

Sherlock crooked a finger at him, drawing him away from possible listening ears.

"I've given the Hamleys staff a list of the things they need to get ready, give them half an hour and it will all be ready in Christmas bags."

"Thanks mate, I appreciate it. I want this to be really good for these kids!"

An almost shy smile crossed Sherlock's face.

"Between us we'll make this Christmas their best."


	15. Wonderful Christmastime

The screams of excitement were almost deafening, as the curtains were finally pulled back to reveal Santa in his grotto.

From where he was hidden Sherlock could see each child as they mounted the steps to the stage, and if he turned slightly had a clear view of his flatmate.

Even half hidden by a white wig, beard and hat, John's face glowed with enthusiasm and happiness, he was clearly in his element, and as each child either clambered onto his lap or threw their arms around him for a hug Sherlock realised that this, this innocence, this happiness, was what John had been trying to impart to him when they discussed Santa Claus.

John, on the other hand, was silently praising his friend's ability to read people, even if those people were only four feet tall and as yet still very much in the formation stage.

So far every child had peered into his or her gift bag, and their eyes lit up, rivalling the lights on the Christmas tree. Sherlock had chosen well, and John would be forever grateful for his help.

When the present giving was finished, and 'Santa' had finally been allowed to return to the North Pole, the friends returned to Baker Street and Sherlock wondered if this would be a new entry in John's blog.

**A/N: I know it's unusual for me to post two chapters of the same story in one day - but this is almost a second half of the previous chapter. There will be two more chapters, ending on Christmas eve.**

**Thanks for reading this far :)**


	16. Mistletoe and Wine

Christmas eve, and for the first time ever Sherlock viewed John and Mrs Hudson's plans for the evening's party with real interest.

They were checking off the guest list, making sure that they had food and drink that each person liked. Mrs Hudson had wrapped little tree gifts for each one, and hung them on the tree while John laid the now thoroughly cleaned kitchen table.

A note on the door invited their friends to come straight up, and soon the sounds of footsteps alerted them to the arrival of Greg and Molly, followed shortly by Mike Stamford.

In the background John had Christmas music playing on his iPod, and Sherlock realised with a jolt of surprise and satisfaction that his flatmate must have been recording him, and when a slightly fuzzy choir singing Oh Little Town of Bethlehem came on he looked across at the doctor sitting on the arm of Mrs Hudson's chair. John waggled his mobile phone at him and grinned.

Molly was entranced, and even Greg grinned soppily at the spirit of Christmas, and as Sherlock started to disclaim responsibility an unexpected voice spoke softly from the doorway.

"That was ever your favourite Christmas carol."

Sherlock looked up, surprised, as Mycroft stepped into the room and gave him a stiff and unexpected hug.

"Merry Christmas, little brother."


	17. Merry Christmas Everyone

John sat back and watched as the Holmes brothers absorb the 'spirit' of Christmas as they joined in the silliness, even loosening up enough to tell tales of Christmases past.

There was the time Sherlock fell out of the tree on Christmas Eve and Mycroft was tasked with cutting his dinner up for him as he'd broken his arm, and when Mycroft's port was spiked by the neighbour's spotty son, leaving him reeling tipsily around the room with the boy's buck-toothed sister clinging to him.

Molly had tales of her cat eating the turkey, and Greg's tales revolved around ghost stories told around firesides, and family gatherings with drunken uncles and overblown aunts.

When their guests had left, and John had quickly cleaned up the flat, Sherlock stood by his chair smiling softly.

"Thank you John."

"For?"

"For this. For everything."

John blushed.

"Daft bugger, you do know that's what friends are for, eh?"

"Yes, but…"

John pulled him into a hug almost as stiff as Mycroft's.

"Merry Christmas Sherlock. Now, get some sleep, it's been a long day."

Once he was sure he was alone, John dug out a Christmas stocking with Sherlock's name written on it, filled with the younger man's favourite biscuits. He added a wrapped Rubik's Cube, then pinned it to the mantlepiece and retired to bed.

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited, or followed this collection of 221B's, and a very merry Christmas to all of you :)**

**I would also like to acknowledge the following artists for the songs that inspired the chapter titles:  
Greg Lake (I Believe In Father Christmas)**

**The Beach Boys (Little Saint Nick)**

**Band Aid (Do They Know It's Christmas?)**

**Mariah Carey (All I Want For Christmas Is You)**

**The Pogues feat. Kirsty McCall (Fairytale Of New York)**

**Chris Rea (Driving Home For Christmas)**

**The Waitresses (Christmas Wrapping)**

**Mud (Lonely This Christmas)**

**Andy Williams (It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year)**

**Bing Crosby (It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas & Do You Hear What I Hear?)**

**Elton John (Step Into Christmas)**

**The Pretenders (2000 Miles)**

**Johnny Mathis (When A Child Is Born)**

**Gene Autry (Here Comes Santa Clause)**

**Paul McCartney and Wings (Wonderful Christmastime)**

**Cliff Richard (Mistletoe And Wine)**

**Shakin' Stevens (Merry Christmas Everyone)**


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